


Into the Lion's Den

by Hardy



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Character Study
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-29 07:34:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6365065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hardy/pseuds/Hardy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the death of his father by his brother's hand, Sandor needs to leave Clegane's Keep in order to survive. His only hope is to reach Casterly Rock and find Tywin Lannister.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Into the Lion's Den

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this tumblr post : http://allstrangeandwonderful.tumblr.com/post/141038825849/what-she-says-im-fine-what-she-means-i-need-to
> 
> Edited by the lovely DeepFriedLionLizard. Thank you so much!

When Casterly Rock finally came into view Sandor’s knees buckled under him and he fell forwards, the rough and rocky path digging into his palms with a sharp sting that brought tears to his eyes. He had been walking for days now - he couldn’t remember how many - and all his strength seemed to have left his body. Hot tears started to roll down his cheeks and for a moment he felt like giving up, but when he looked up at the colossal rock overlooking the Sunset Sea, he knew he couldn’t. _Almost there. I’m almost there._ The rock shone like gold under the midday sun, beckoning to him. Just when he thought he could no longer go on, he found a hidden source of determination within him, and he drew from it the strength to stand back up, and although his legs trembled under him they carried him to the golden castle.

Somehow, he made his way through the bustling streets of Lannisport, the faces of the busy men and women around him a blur. All he could see was the Lion’s Mouth, the huge gaping cavern guarded by two gigantic stone lions that he knew was the entry to the castle. He had never seen Casterly Rock himself, but his father had; in fact, the Rock had been his father’s first home. The stories about how House Clegane came to be were Sandor’s favourites, although the tales of Ser Duncan the Tall’s exploits came close. _I will be as strong and brave as my grandfather and Ser Duncan have been._ The thought comforted him and gave him the necessary strength to climb the broad steps leading to the Lion’s Mouth. No sooner had he climbed the final steps than he was stopped by two guards.

“Where do you think you’re going, boy?” the taller man asked, eyeing him suspiciously. Sandor instinctively pulled on his hair to cover his scars, but in only resulted in attracting the man’s attention on his scars. “What in the Seven Hells happened to your face?!”

Sandor chose to ignore the last question and looked into the man’s eyes. _Always look into the eyes of the man you’re talking to. Do not look away. It is a sign of weakness._ “I am Sandor of House Clegane and I am here to speak to Lord Tywin Lannister,” he said in a confident voice that he knew would have made his maester proud. His confidence however all but vanished when the two guards started laughing at him.

“The boy wants to speak to Lord Lannister!”

“Aye, and I wouldn’t mind speaking to King Aerys myself! Think His Grace would want to see me?”

Blood rushed to Sandor’s cheeks and he suddenly felt the need to run away, but he couldn’t. Certain death awaited him back at Clegane’s Keep and being granted an audience with Tywin Lannister was his only hope.

“My-- My father was squire to Lord Tytos Lannister. He was knighted by Lord Tytos himself. My brother,” Sandor paused and swallowed back his hatred for his elder brother. _I have to convince them. I have to!_ “My brother was knighted by Prince Rhaegar! You must know him. He squired for His Lordship’s brother, Ser Tygett Lannister.”

The taller guard jeered at him. “Aye, and I was knighted by Aegon the Conqueror himself. Now off with you, boy, before I send you rolling down those steps all the way to Lannisport.”

Sandor didn’t even hear him. He was looking at the other guard, who was now staring at him with something akin to recognition on his face. The man reached out to the other guard and grabbed his arm.

“You bloody fool, he’s telling the truth. Look at him!”

“What? All I see is an ugly mug.”

“You’ve never seen Gregor Clegane, have you? I have. And you don’t want him to know you didn’t let his brother see Lord Lannister, believe that.”

The other man scoffed. “He could very well be lying about who he is…”

“We’ll let the steward be the judge of that. I like my head where it is. On my shoulders.” The guard turned his head to look at Sandor and jerked his chin towards the entrance into the Rock. “Go and ask for Damon Lannett. He’s the steward.”

Relief washed over Sandor and he nodded enthusiastically, hopeful. He quickly walked past the guards and finally set foot in the Lion’s Mouth. As he did so, he suddenly felt very cold. The sun no longer warmed his skin and the only light came from torches on the wall and small openings cut into the rock. His heart started to beat faster and he quickened his pace in spite of the intense throbbing pain in his feet. He could not stop now, not when he was so close to his goal.

He asked the first servant he saw for Damon Lannett and followed the directions he was given until he reached the door the servant had said would lead to the steward’s quarters. The door was half-open and Sandor could see a fair-haired man poring over a large leather-bound book. He timidly knocked and the man looked up at him. His brows furrowed as he saw Sandor standing at the door, and he straightened up. “Are you lost, boy?”

Sandor shook his head. “My apologies for disturbing you, my lord, but I… I am looking for Lord Damon Lannett.”

The man crossed his arms over his chest. “You found him. What do you want? Shouldn’t you be with your father or your master?”

“My… My father is dead, my lord. And I have no master. I am Sandor of House Clegane,” he quickly added, silently cursing himself for not having said his name before. “I am here to see Lord Lannister.”

The steward’s eyes grew wide. “ _You_ want to see Lord Tywin?”

Sandor nodded. “I heard that he came back from King’s Landing a few days ago and… I need to talk to him. I wish to serve him and House Lannister like my father and his father before him. I-- I can read, and I can write, and our master-at-arms said I could become a knight like my father--”

The steward stopped him with an impatient gesture of his hand. “Clegane, you said? Ser Gregor’s brother?” Sandor nodded once again, though he wished the man hadn’t mentioned his brother. “I see.” The steward ran a hand over his chin. After a few moments of heavy silence, he spoke again: “I will see if Lord Tywin accepts to grant you an audience with him.” He eyed Sandor critically before walking to the door. “Follow me.”

Sandor almost felt dizzy with relief and hope as he followed Damon Lannett through the endless stone corridors of the castle. His heart was beating hard and fast in his chest and he found himself praying that Tywin Lannister would see him. He shook his head. _Prayers are useless. There are no Gods._ He had learnt that lesson at a very young age.

As they made their way to Lord Tywin’s solar, Sandor noticed that the corridors only became larger and lighter the closer they got to the Lord’s chambers. Openings were carved in the stone walls and as he looked through them he saw the Sunset Sea shimmer under the bright sunlight. The sound of the waves crashing against the rock became more and more faint as they climbed countless flights of stairs, to Sandor’s despair. Every step was agony, and by the time they reached Lord Tywin’s solar, he was biting the inside of his cheek so as not to scream in pain. _Sore feet is a small price to pay to stay alive._ He should have been relieved when the steward stopped in front of an ornate door that could only lead to the Lord’s quarters, but he wasn’t. His guts seemed to twist around like worms in his belly and his hands were shaking. _They say Lord Tywin is a hard man. What if he sends me back?_

The steward turned to look at him, and it seemed to Sandor that his face softened. “Wait here, boy,” he said, before knocking on the door. An answer came from the other side and the steward quickly opened the door and slipped into the room. Sandor held his breath and scooted closer to the door but could only hear muffled voices. He looked down at his hands and tried in vain to make them stop shaking. After what seemed like an eternity, the door opened once again and the steward beckoned him closer. Somehow, he found himself being pushed into the room and the door closed behind him.

Tywin Lannister looked exactly like Sandor had thought he would. Tall, slender but broad-shouldered, with bushy golden whiskers and sharp green eyes, he looked every bit the lion that he was. Sandor was used to being taller than most boys his age, and even men, however Tywin Lannister made him feel as small as an ant. He almost flinched when the man finally spoke, so powerful and commanding was his voice.

“Cersei, leave us.”

Sandor had been so busy staring at Tywin Lannister that he hadn’t noticed the beautiful maid next to him. _Cersei Lannister. Lord Tywin’s daughter._ She couldn’t have been older than six and ten and she had her father’s green eyes and hair like spun gold. When she heard her father, she pressed her lips together and huffed but nevertheless obeyed. On her way to the door, she turned her head to look at him with contempt and -- to Sandor’s surprise -- something akin to curiosity. She let the door slam behind her and the sound echoed off the high stone walls, making Sandor jump. Lord Tywin, however, was unfazed and calmly sat down in the high-back chair behind his writing desk. Sandor pulled his hair back over his scars, over and over again. He was painfully aware of the Tywin Lannister’s eyes on him as they made him feel as though the man was looking _through_ him, rather than at him. Lord Tywin’s voice cutting through the silence made him stop his nervous fidgeting.

“You wished to see me. I presume this is because of your father’s death.”

Sandor looked up at him and met the man’s eyes. _It has only been a few days…_  

“Your brother, Ser Gregor, sent me a raven to announce his passing. He made no mention of you coming to Casterly Rock, however. Perhaps you could shed some light on why that is.”

Sandor swallowed hard but held the man’s unwavering gaze. “...My brother has no need of me. He already has a squire. I did not tell him I was leaving.” _That is not a lie. Merely a half-truth._ “I wish to serve you and your House, if you will let me.”

Lord Tywin leant back in his chair and observed him for a moment, making Sandor squirm.

“How old are you?” He finally asked and Sandor promptly replied.

“One and ten, my lord. I-- I will be one and ten in a moon’s turn.”

“I see,” Lord Tywin said and he seemed to think for a moment. Sandor turned his attention to the Lannister coat-of-arms displayed on the wall behind Tywin Lannister’s chair. The golden lion was fearsome to behold and Sandor found himself wondering if lions were still being kept in the bowels of Casterly Rock and if so, would he be able to see them someday--  
  
“I presume you want to become a knight, like your father and your brother?”

Sandor swallowed hard. He had always wanted to become a knight, that much was true. He wanted to wear a lady’s favour and fight in a tourney, protect the people and the House he was sworn to, and - in his wildest dreams - he even thought he would become a knight of the Kingsguard. But when Gregor burnt him, those hopes had turned to ashes. And when he heard that Prince Rhaegar himself had knighted his brother… _There are no true knights, no more than there are Gods._ Sandor shook his head. “I will be whatever you want me to be, my lord." At that moment, Sandor could have sworn he saw the corners of Lord Tywin’s lips pull up but the man’s face remained as impassive as ever.

“Good,” he said. “Ask a servant to show you the squires’ quarters. This is where you will stay.” Lord Tywin pulled a piece of parchment from a drawer, took a quill and quickly wrote  down a few words. Sandor’s heart was beating so fast he could hear his pulse hammering in his ears. “Then you will give this...” He gave Sandor the piece of parchment. “..to the master-at-arms, Ser Gareth Marbrand. He will tell you what is expected of you.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Sandor said breathlessly, clutching the precious piece of parchment in his shaking hand. “Thank you.”

Lord Tywin Lannister didn’t answer. He merely stood, turned his back to him, and poured himself a cup of wine. “You may leave,” he said after a heavy pause in an aloof tone. Sandor bowed and was quick to leave the room, slipping through the door. As it closed behind him, he caught a glimpse of the man who had just saved his life standing tall and proud as a king, his golden beard shining in the sunlight. The moment of awe lasted only for a few seconds before he found himself facing the ornate oak door in the dimly lit corridor for the second time that day.  The echo of the heavy door shutting reverberated off the stone walls of the corridor and rang in his own ears with the same intensity. He suddenly felt dizzy when he realised he wouldn’t have to go back to Clegane’s Keep. He couldn’t believe it. _What if this is nothing but a cruel jape? What if they send me back?_ He shook his head and looked down at the piece of parchment he held in his hand.  
  
_No. Tywin Lannister may be a hard man… But he is just. And I’ll show him how loyal a hound can be._

 

 


End file.
